


The Treehouse

by runsandhides



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Restaurant, M/M, flashbacks to childhood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 18:51:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3499142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runsandhides/pseuds/runsandhides
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Cas both run restaurants across the street from each other. They used to be best friends until their families got in the way. Can they repair their damaged relationship?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Treehouse

“I can’t believe you ate there!” Dean shouted at his phone.

“I’m so sorry Andy wanted to take me somewhere nice for our anniversary!” Jo yelled back.

“This is a nice place! We’ve got cloth napkins and everything!” Dean was scandalized.

“First of all,” Jo said coolly, “I don’t want to go on a date where I work. Secondly, _The Greasy Spoon?_ It’s a family restaurant!”

“What? you didn’t want to celebrate with your family?”

Jo sighed. “Look. I know this is less about the fact that we didn’t eat at the Spoon and more about the fact that we ate at Forque, but their food is really nice. I really don’t get why you hate them so much. They’re not even competition. It’s a completely different type of cuisine.”

Dean ran a hand through his hair. “It’s hard to explain…”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure it is. I gotta go. I’ll see you at work tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I’ll see ya. Oh, and Jo?”

“Yeah?”

“Congratulations on finding someone who can deal with you for a whole year.” Dean smirked even though she couldn’t see it.

“Well at least I’ve got someone,” She snarked back. “Actually,” she said thoughtfully, “if I didn’t have to go right now, I’d press more on that matter. But I do. See you tomorrow.”

“See ya, Jo.” Dean sighed. Why couldn’t anyone just realize that love wasn’t in the the cards for him? It was fairly simple for him to accept, why couldn’t everyone else just leave the topic alone? He dropped his phone back in his pocket and left the office, heading back to the kitchen.

As to why he hated Forque so much, Dean continued with his internal monologue, no one knew what complete and total pretentious dicks the Miltons were. Sam should get it, but maybe he was too young to remember what assholes they were when they were kids. His dad knew. That’s why he was banned from playing with them in the first place. Too bad Dean didn’t listen until it was too late.

The clanging of the kitchen brought him from his thoughts and he smiled. He loved working in the kitchen. Sure, he was technically the owner now, but the kitchen had an energy to it that kept him moving, not to mention distracted. Still, he loved making food for people and the crew he had were a pretty good bunch. He threw on his apron, turned up the music, and took over for Charlie as he sent her on her break.

  
  


As he drove home he was left, again, with his thoughts. Thoughts of that awful, fancy-ass restaurant across the street from his. Thoughts of Cas. These were things he didn’t want to think about. They were only ten when Cas stopped talking to him… He shook his head and turned up the radio in his car, singing loudly and off-key to Bruce Springsteen.

When he got home he went to the fridge to pull out a beer and then changed his mind and went for the Jack. It was only Tuesday, and he had to work in the morning, but his stupid brain would just not shut up and he was going to need some help getting to sleep tonight. Seriously, this whole thing happened twenty years ago. He really should be over it by now. He knew that, so why didn’t his brain? He wanted to call Sam or his mom and just let them ramble at him for a while. It was always the best distraction. But one look at the clock told him it was way too late to be bothering anyone for anything that wasn’t an emergency. This was nothing another glass of bourbon couldn’t take care of. Eventually his thoughts were fuzzy enough for him to climb into bed and pass out for a few hours. That night he dreamed of summer sunshine and freshly mown grass and his childhood best friend. Thankfully the alcohol keeps him from remembering any of it.

 

_**twenty years ago…** _

 

“Dean Winchester! You get back here and put some shoes on before you go running down the street!” his mother called after him. He had almost made it to the sidewalk.

“Fine,” he huffed as he stomped back to the house. His mom brought out his socks and high tops so he wouldn’t have to go all the way back into the house with his grassy feet and he sat on the stoop and put them on quickly, barely tieing them. Once finished he jumped up and started running again.

“Be home before the streetlights come on!” his mom yelled.

“Okay!” he shouted back, and ran in the direction of Cas’ house. His dad had just built him a new tree house and he couldn’t wait to try it out. He rounded the corner of the block as fast as his legs would take him and stopped at the second house. he opened the gate and ran straight to the back yard.

“Cas?” he called.

“Dean!” Cas yelled back from the treehouse in the back of the yard. He threw down a rope ladder for Dean to climb up. When he got to the top Cas pulled the ladder back up. “My brothers can’t bother me up here,” he beamed. “Dad says they’re not allowed, but just in case I pull the ladder up anyway.”

“This is awesome, Cas!” Dean marveled as he looked around. Cas had already started decorating. He had a Captain America poster up on one wall and Spider-Man on another. Dean started pulling action figures out of his pockets.

“Too bad you can’t spend the night,” Cas lamented. “We could sleep up here and watch the stars.”

Dean smiled, a little sadly. “You could tell me more of your stories.”

Cas nodded. “I’d swipe my dad’s guitar and you could play me some songs.”

“Man, that would be awesome,” Dean said wistfully.

“Too bad our parents don’t get along,” Cas said.

“Parents are dumb. I’m not gonna be like that when I grow up.”

“Me neither,” said Cas.

“It’s not even all of our parents, either. It’s just my stupid dad and your mom.”

Cas nodded and then they forgot about it. “Oh! Look what my dad got me!” He pulled out a Luke Skywalker action figure.

“Oh man!” Dean squealed as Cas handed it to him. “Your dad is the coolest.”

“I know. I wanna be as cool as him when I grow up. Except I don’t want to work in a restaurant. I wanna be a writer.”

“You’re such a nerd,” Dean said playfully. “I’m not gonna work in a restaurant either. I’m gonna be a rock star.”

“We’ll be rich and famous!” Cas went on. “We can get a big house together and you can play music while I write!”

“Heck yeah! See, Cas, you have the best ideas. You’re gonna be an awesome writer.”

 

_**present day…** _

 

Cas pulled off his clothes and showered. It seemed no matter what he did he couldn’t get the smell of the restaurant off of him. He hated that place so much. He threw on some flannel pants and sat down on the edge of his bed. How had he let himself get talked into taking over that place? He asked himself this question every night for the last twelve years. It wasn’t fair. He was the youngest. Michael should have gotten it. It should have been his responsibility. And then Cas would have been able to go on and do what he wanted and be a disappointment to the family like he’d always planned.

Okay, sure, maybe he wasn’t going to be some big-time writer. He’d stopped making up stories when he was ten and no one was around that wanted to listen to them anymore. But there were plenty of other things he’d wanted to do. He had actually planned on going to school for archaeology before his dad left. He remembered learning about mythology and ancient cultures in high school and it had fascinated him. He wanted to learn all languages, dead and current, and he wanted to visit the sites where those ancient people lived and get a feel for what it was like over 2000 years ago.

But now he was trapped. His dad left when he was twelve and everyone had gone about their business and his mom needed someone to help her run the restaurant. He’d wanted to refuse, but she just alway had a way of getting into his head. He still wasn’t convinced that she was right in persuading him to stop talking to Dean when they were young.

He rolled into bed, wrapped himself up in his blankets like a cocoon and slept restlessly, dreamlessly. When he awoke he had a headache from grinding his teeth in his sleep and he he tried to disentangle himself from his blankets before he was too awake to go back to sleep for a few minutes. He didn’t succeed.

Pulling on a pair of shorts and an old t-shirt he got ready for a run. It was the only thing that helped clear his head. He tied his sneakers and headed out the door. The sun was shining and the grass was a bright, summery green. Not too many people were out yet so he didn’t have to pretend to be friendly. He focused on the burn of his muscles working and the wind in his face. Running felt amazing, almost as if he could get away from everything that was bringing him down, but eventually he had to turn back. He never ran back to his house, always walked, never in a rush to get back to the monotony.

Cas heaved a deep sigh and started the coffee maker before climbing in the shower again. It wasn’t even really the sweat he was trying to wash away,  it was more like he was trying to scrub away his misery. When had he started hating his life so much? He closed his eyes and let the hot spray hit his back, trying to make himself relax just a little.

When he was finished he poured his coffee into his travel mug and headed to the restaurant, the day’s scowl already settling on his face. His mind drifted as he drove downtown.

 

_**twenty years ago…** _

 

Dean was showing him the catapult he had built. Cas was always fascinated with how well Dean was with mechanics. He loved to take things apart and figure out how they worked and then put them together again. Then he started building his own, little machines. The catapult was the latest.

“So we just put the paratrooper in here and…” He set the machine off, sending the little plastic figure skyward. “See, I fixed it so that he goes up instead of forward like old catapults.” The figure floated to the ground between them.

“Dean, that’s amazing!”

Dean just shrugged. “I mean, I basically just put it on it’s back. It’s not that big a deal.”

Cas beamed and shook his head at his best friend. “You’re really smart. I bet none of the other kids thought of this.”

Dean blushed. “You wanna try?” he pushed the machine toward Cas. They sent up all of their paratroopers and then moved on to other toys.

“We could use it for water balloons!” Dean said excitedly.

“Maybe I’ll pick some up for you tomorrow,” Mrs. Winchester’s voice came from behind them.

“Yeah?” Dean asked, his eyes practically sparkling.

“Sure,” she chuckled, setting down some sandwiches and tumblers of juice.

“Thank you, Mrs. Winchester,” Cas said.

“Cas, I told you. Call me Mary,” she smiled at him. He liked Dean’s mom. She always seemed happy, like Dean, and she was so kind to him, even though his mom and Dean’s dad didn’t get along.

“Yes ma’am. I mean Mary.”

They ate their sandwiches quickly, eager to get to whatever it was that they were going to do next. While Dean was taking the plates and cups back inside Sammy came running out to see him.

“Hi Cas!” he yelled as he came up to him.

“Hey, Sam,” Cas smiled. He eyed the red pillow marks on his cheek. “Did you just wake up?”

“Yeah, mom made me take a nap. She said I was being a grump but I wasn’t.” He folded his arms across his chest and stuck out his bottom lip.

“Are you sure?” Cas said, amused.

“Yeah! She’s just a meanie.”

“No she’s not,” Cas said seriously. “Bet she didn’t yell at you or make you do chores, did she?”

“No,” Sammy said slowly.

“See, it’s not that bad.”

“I guess. What are you guys doing?”

“We’re gonna go ride bikes,” Dean said, walking up to them.

“I wanna go!” Sam said.

“Sammy, you’re too slow,” Dean whined.

Sam’s eyes welled up. “But I wanna play with you and Cas.”

“Fine,” Dean sighed. “Lets get the bikes out.”

“I’ll be back,” Cas said as he left to retrieve his own bike. He ran down the block and around the corner to his garage. He had just gotten his bike out when he heard Michael.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to ride my bike,” he replied sternly.

“With who?”

“With some friends, Michael, jeez.”

“What friends?”

“Mike why don’t you just let him go?” Gabriel said, walking up to them. “He’s fine. He’s too smart to get into any trouble.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “If you’re hanging out with that Winchester kid and mom finds out she’ll ground you for life, you know.”

Cas tried to think of something to say to stand up to his biggest brother but the tears that started filling his eyes were distracting him.

“Well then,” Gabe interrupted. “Better make sure she doesn’t find out, huh Mikey? Because if she finds out about that she might just find out you’ve been spending time with the Talbot girl.”

Michael looked at Gabriel, horrified, and then angry. He turned on his heel and stomped back into the house.

“Thanks, Gabe,” Cas said, wiping his eyes.

Gabe shrugged. “Just don’t get caught, okay? Nothing I can do then.”

Cas nodded and hopped onto his bike, riding back toward the Winchester house. He thought it would be pretty easy to keep their friendship a secret since everybody who cared was always at work.

 

**_ present day… _ **

 

Dean was glad to have the day shift. As hungover as he felt and would have liked to get a few more hours of sleep, he needed a night off. He hadn’t talked to his family in a while and he certainly hasn’t had much time to himself.

As he was taking the chairs down from the tables his eyes were drawn to the window. Forque. What a stupid, pretentious name for a stupid pretentious restaurant. It was fitting, really. It certainly fit the people who owned it. He told himself that it was the food that bothered him most. How could people pay so much for such little plates? Who the hell wants to eat caviar and truffles and... kale or whatever? He could only imagine what kind of desserts they had there. Probably a single raspberry with a drop of some fancy chocolate and a bit of cream made from some random, non-cow type animal. They probably didn’t even have pie.

But if Dean really thought about it he really wasn’t satisfied with his own place, either. Sure, burgers are fine, great, even, but they’re always better made at home. There was baked chicken and lasagna and basically any “homestyle” meal you could think of. But it wasn’t homestyle, not really, because it wasn’t made at home. Restaurants were for lazy people, in Dean’s opinion, and he was stuck with one.

Dean was working on the day’s pies when Jo came in. She pulled on her smock with her name tag and paused.

“You okay, Dean? This isn’t still about Andy and me going to Forque is it?”

“What? No, what are you talking about?”

“I don’t know, you seem kinda down.”

“You’ve only been here for like five minutes.”

“I know you, Dean. Those are your brooding and pensive shoulders.”

Dean sighed. “You ever just realize that what you’re doing with your life isn’t anything close to what you want to be doing?”

“I’m a waitress, what do you think?”

“Yeah, but you’re going to school. You’re not gonna be a waitress forever. I just… I feel like I’m stuck here.”

“Well what do you want to do?”

“I don’t know. I never really thought about it. This is what I was always supposed to do, you know? I never really had a choice.”

“I mean, you could have said ‘no.’”

“I really couldn’t have. I would have let my whole family down.”

“Sometimes you have to do what’s best for you. They love you, Dean. I’m sure they’d have been just as happy if you had done something that made you happy.”

“You never met my dad.”

“Well,” Jo sighed, “I don’t know what to tell you then. I think you should do what makes you happy. It’s never too late, you know.”

“Yeah,” Dean let out a mirthless laugh, “sure.”

 

_**twenty years ago…** _

 

They laid on Dean’s bed, watching the rain fall. It was one of those random summer thunderstorms, where the sky was almost black and the trees looked like they were going to be knocked over by the wind.

“Why do you think my dad and your mom don’t get along Cas?”

“My mom says that your dad’s restaurant is an eye sore and she hates that her customers have to look at it while they’re eating.”

“That sounds like a stupid reason.”

“She also says that your dad is a brute and doesn’t care about anyone else. She said that I’m not to be associating with people like that. That’s why she sends me and Gabe and Michael to a different school. I think she just thinks she’s better than everyone else.”

“But your dad’s not like that.”

“No, he pretty much likes everyone.”

“My dad’s got stupid reasons, too.”

“What does he say?”

“He says your mom is a stuck up…” he leaned closer to Cas and whispered, “ _bitch_.”

Cas gasped.

“And he says that he doesn’t understand why people would pay so much for such a little bit of food. He said I can’t play with you because you’ll just act like you’re better than me.”

Cas scrunched up his face. “But I don’t act like that!”

“I know! That’s what I told him! He said ‘Just wait.’”

“I wouldn’t -”

“I know, Cas. Sometimes grownups just can’t see past what they think.”

They laid there in silence for a few minutes, listening to the rain pattering against the window.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“We’re always gonna be friends, right?”

“'Course, Cas. Best friends.”

 

_**present day…** _

 

“Yes, Mother,” Cas sighed into the phone. “The restaurant is fine. Our numbers are up. The staff works perfectly. You ask me the same questions every week.”

“I just want to make sure everything is going fine.”

“It’s fine.”

“Is something wrong? You’re not usually this short with me.”

“I just don’t think you need me to do this. I’m fairly certain you could handle this on your own.”

“Castiel, please. You know I need you there. After your father left things have been so hard for me. I can’t even go in there. There are too many memories.”

“Well if it hurts you so much, why don’t you just sell it?”

His mother gasped. “How dare you suggest such a thing! That restaurant is the only thing I have to show for all my hard work. It’s the very reason I wasn’t around to raise you.” She let out a dramatic sigh. “Maybe it was foolish of me, though. If I hadn’t been gone so much you would have never gotten mixed up with that Winchester boy.”

“Mother, that was years ago. And I survived.”

“Yes, well, you certainly picked up that attitude from somewhere. He isn’t bothering you again, is he?”

“I haven’t talked to Dean in twenty years. I don’t think he’d give me the time of day if I asked.”

“Just like his father. Don’t worry about it, Castiel. He is beneath you.”

“Dean is not _beneath_ me, Mother,” Cas spit out. “Dean was always the kindest, most honest person I ever knew. I never understood what your problem was. He was my best friend. We-”

“You what, Castiel?”

“Nothing. Forget it. I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

“You see, he _was_ a bad influence.”

 

_**the next day...** _

 

It was finally Dean’s day off, so, of course, he woke up earlier than he would have if he had to work. He laid in bed for a while, trying to will himself to go back to sleep to no avail. He heaved a sigh and resolved to get up. He started the coffee and jumped in the shower. It was nice out already and he had a perfectly good porch to sit on so he decided to take his coffee out there, along with a book.

He wasn’t outside for twenty minutes before he heard the unmistakable sound of someone running down the sidewalk toward his house. He could barely see the figure but he could tell it was Cas. Only because they had run together as kids, he told himself, and he knew how the other man ran. As Cas jogged back he turned his head and their eyes caught. Dean stared after him, a practiced, hard look on his face, but all his brain registered was _his hair!_ and _omg sweat_ and _stupid, sexy bastard_. And, of course,  _BLUE_. When Cas had finally passed he huffed and stormed back into the house. How dare that asshole be so goddamned attractive?

He slammed his coffee mug into the sink and threw himself down on the couch. He didn’t even bother turning on the television, just tipped his head back and closed his eyes. Did it even make sense for him to still be pissed at Cas? It was so long ago and they were heavily influenced by their parents. Surely his mother had something to do with Cas giving up on their friendship. But that was years ago. Cas could have manned up eventually and explained himself. Maybe he genuinely didn’t want to be friends with Dean anymore. Honestly, he couldn’t have blamed him. Cas was so smart, and Dean wasn’t. He only would have brought him down.

He took a deep breath and cleared his mind. Maybe he could doze off for a little bit. He tried to think of nothing but images of Cas running past his house started to trickle back into his mind. His grey shirt drenched with sweat. His hair sticking up at every angle. His fucking calf muscles. Dean mindlessly imagined running his tongue along the contours of Cas’ body. He could picture Cas coming home from a run, sweaty and out of breath, and Dean shoving him against a wall as he just barely came through the door. Cas would insist that he needed a shower, but Dean wouldn’t listen, sucking and licking at his neck, trying to peel Cas’ shirt off. He’d kiss down Cas chest, nibbling at his nipples and tracing his abs with his tongue. He’d slide his finger under the waistband of Cas’ shorts and pull them down, kneeling in front of him.

Dean slid his hand into his pants and gripped himself. One little fantasy wasn’t going to hurt anything. He imagined taking Cas’ cock into his mouth, sucking hard and pulling off. Cas would throw his head back against the wall and run his fingers through Dean’s hair, praising him. Dean would go back to work, licking a stripe along the vein on the underside of Cas’ dick before swallowing him again. He’d bob his head back and forth, swallowing Cas down. God, he would taste amazing. Dean’s jaw wouldn’t tire, he’d just keep bobbing and sucking until Cas tightened his hold in Dean’s hair and cried his name as he came down his throat. Dean would swallow it all gratefully. And Cas would look down at him with that look he used to give him when they were kids. One of pure adoration, like he was worth loving. He’d pull Dean back up to standing and embrace him, whispering into his ear, “I love you.”

Dean came with a small cry. He blinked his eyes open. Fuck. He wondered how long he had been in love with Cas and why it couldn’t have been anyone else.

 

_**meanwhile…** _

 

In all the years he has been running that route past Dean’s house he had never, not once, seen Dean sitting outside. Shouldn’t he be sleeping or something? Not just sitting there, in the sunshine, shirtless, drinking coffee like some fucking Greek god. And he’d looked so angry to see Cas running down the street, like he owned it or something. Well fuck him, it’s a free country and Cas could run where he damn well pleased. It wasn’t his fault that Dean carried a grudge for twenty years.

Cas pulled off his clothes and stepped into the shower. Fuck him, he thought again. He closed his eyes and let the water spray on his face. Fuck him, he mused, and he pictured Dean on all fours, himself lining his cock up with Dean’s hole. He’d push in slowly, making sure Dean could feel every inch. When he was finally pushed in to the hilt Dean would start begging. But Cas wouldn’t move until Dean was trembling with need. He’d grip Dean’s hips hard and pull out slowly, almost entirely, before snapping his hips forward again and Dean would cry out in pleasure. Cas would fuck him. He’d fuck him hard. He’d fuck him into the mattress until Dean came, untouched, from how amazing it felt. Dean would realize that they could have had this sooner if he’d only learned to let things go. Cas would keep fucking him until he found his release, and then he’d pull out of Dean, who would sob at the emptiness he left. So Cas would slide in a plug, a promise of later. Then they’d lay down together, kissing softly. Dean would look at him with wonder, like he used to when Cas would tell him the stories he’d made up. Dean would smile and whisper “I love you,” and Cas would smile back. “I love you, too, Dean.”

Cas came silently in the shower as the water ran over his shoulders. He’d always wanted what he couldn’t have.

 

**_twenty years ago…_ **

 

He brought his catapult over to Cas’ treehouse. They were going to shoot the paratroopers out the little window, and then probably anything else they could get their hands on. He even brought some balloons that Cas was filling up with water, in case they saw either of Cas’ brothers.

Dean heard Cas yell up for the ladder and he dropped it for him. Cas was beaming as he climbed up with the sack of water balloons. Dean couldn’t help but smile back. He had the best friend in the whole world. It was too bad they couldn’t go to the same school. Dean wondered what that would have been like, instead of Cas going to that other school where they had to wear uniforms.

They shot one of the paratroopers out the window, but it didn’t go as high as they’d have liked. They just couldn’t get the angle right.

“We should go up on the roof,” Cas suggested. Dean thought that was a brilliant idea. Cas always had the best ideas. He climbed out the window first, and pulled himself onto the roof of the little treehouse. Cas handed the catapult up to him and then the toys and water balloons. Dean balanced them on the top of the slanted roof, against a branch, and then reached down to help his friend up. He pulled him up and the both laid back against the roof and started laughing. This was probably the craziest thing they’d ever done.

A breeze came through, swaying the branches of the tree and Dean’s catapult started sliding down the roof. Cas made a grab for it and missed, and he ended up rolling over the edge of the roof when Dean grabbed his hand.

“Dean! Your catapult!”

“It’s gone, Cas,” Dean said, straining and trying not to lose his grasp of his best friend. His other hand holding onto a thick branch to keep himself from falling as well. “You’ve got to climb up!”

“I’m trying!” Cas was trying to push himself up with his feet against the edge of the treehouse, but the kept slipping. Every time his feet slipped his hands slid a little further down Dean’s arm.

“Don’t let go, Cas! I got you!” Dean wrapped his fingers tighter around the other boy’s wrist. There would be bruises later. But they were both sweating in the summer heat and Dean could still feel him slipping.

Cas slipped again. “Dean!” he yelled, terrified. Without thinking Dean reached out with his other hand, letting go of the branch, and they both went tumbling off the roof. Somehow Dean managed to get under Cas as they fell. He landed on his arm and Cas landed on top of him, knocking the breath out of them both.

Dean was trying his best not to cry, his arm hurt a lot. When he finally caught his breath he looked up at Cas, who had pushed himself off of him and was leaning against the tree, still trying to breathe.

“Cas,” he gasped. “You’re bleeding!” Then neither of them could stop the tears. They didn’t know what to do, but they did know they needed to tell an adult.

“I’ll go get your mom,” Cas finally said.

“Cas, you’re bleeding!” Dean repeated. “ _I’ll_ go get my mom.”

Cas wiped the blood away from his forehead. “I’m fine. You landed on your arm. It’s probly broke!”

“Well then we’ll both go.”

“Fine.”

 

“Sorry ‘bout your catapult,” Cas said quietly on the walk back to Dean’s house.

“Screw the catapult, Cas! You’re hurt! I shoulda never brought that stupid thing over in the first place.”

“It’s not the catapult’s fault, Dean. I’m just clumsy sometimes. Gabe and Michael make fun of me for it all the time.”

“Well then I should have held on better. I shoulda been stronger, Cas. I couldn’t save you,” he said, eyes welling up with tears again. “So much for being a fireman.”

Cas grabbed Dean’s hand, the one he didn’t land on. “You can’t save everyone, Dean.”

Dean just huffed. If he couldn’t save his best friend then what did it matter who he could save.

 

“Mom?” Dean called when they got in his house.

“In the kitchen!” She called back. The two of them walked in slowly. They hadn’t even thought of a lie to tell her. She was smiling when she turned around to greet them but it fell off her face immediately.

“Oh my God, what happened?”

“We fell off the tree house,” Dean said. He started sniffling again. He didn’t want to cry in front of Cas anymore but with his mom there he just couldn’t help it. “Cas hurt his head,” he sobbed.

Mary went straight to Cas, examining his head. She wiped it with a dish towel and then pressed it against the cut. “It’s just a scratch, honey. Sometimes they bleed a lot when they’re on your head.”

“Dean hurt his arm!” Cas blurted. Dean gave Cas a look of betrayal but Cas just looked worried.

“Let me see,” said Mary.

Dean clenched his teeth and held out his arm. She took it lightly in her hand and he yelped.

“I think it’s broken, sweetie. I’m going to have to take you to the hospital.”

“What about Cas?”

“Cas will have to wait at home. We can’t take him with us, I don’t know how long we’ll be.” She sighed deeply. “And I don’t think his parents are going to be too happy.”

Now Cas started crying. He hadn’t thought about his mom finding out. He was going to be grounded for life.

Mary pulled him into a hug. “It’s okay, honey. I’ll try to talk to your parents. It’ll be okay.”

She dropped Cas off at his house before taking Dean to the hospital. Dean watched Cas out his window as they pulled away.

 

_**present day…** _

 

Dean was plagued by his recent revelation all day. Of course he was in love with Cas. Of fucking course. Probably had been since before he even knew what love was. Before he broke his arm. It made so much sense, really. That’s why it hurt so much when Cas stopped talking to him. That’s why he couldn’t get over it when he had to see Cas across the street almost every day. He needed to talk to someone. He called his mom.

“Hi Dean!” she said pleasantly when she answered the phone, like Dean wasn’t having some sort of crisis.

“Hey, mom,” he replied, trying to express all his troubles with those two words.

Good thing moms catch on fast. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

Dean sighed. He didn’t know where to start.

“Just start at the beginning, Dean.” Moms are amazing.

“It’s Cas,” he said.

“Did something happen to him?”

“No, I just. Mom, how can I feel like…”

“You finally realized how you feel about him and it’s conflicting with your stubbornness about hating him?”

“Okay, seriously, how do you do that?”

“Dean, you haven’t talked about Cas in years, but the way you two were together, and how much it hurt you when he quit talking to you...” he could practically hear her shrug. “There was obviously something special between you two.”

“So what do I do about it?”

“Have you tried talking to him?”

“You’re kidding, right? We’ve lived on the same block practically our entire lives. He owns the restaurant directly across from mine. He hasn’t said two words to me since we were ten.”

“Yeah, but have _you_ tried talking to _him_?”

“Seriously? Mom, I screamed myself blue the rest of that summer trying to figure out what happened. I rode past his house, like, everyday until high school. I’m not the one who gave up here.”

“It’s been a long time. Maybe you should give him another chance.”

“Look, if he wants to talk, he knows where to find me.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, then, Dean. Cas can be just as stubborn as you. One of you has to make a move. Nothing is going to happen on its own. Life isn’t a movie.”

“Alright, thanks mom. How’s dad?”

 

_**meanwhile…** _

 

“Cassie, what’s the matter? I don’t think I’ve seen you this irritable since you took over the place.” Balthazar smiled at him. Cas wasn’t sure if he was trying to make him feel better, but if he was it certainly wasn’t helping.

“I’m fine. Just had a rough morning.”

“Out too late, darling?”

“If only,” Cas grumbled. He did not want to think about what happened this morning. In fact, he’d very much like to forget completely about it. But there was this annoying fluttering in his belly every time it slipped into his mind.

“Why don’t you come out with us tonight, Cas. Looks like you could use something to take your mind off things.”

Other people used alcohol to drown their problems. Maybe he should give it a shot, just this once. It couldn’t hurt. “Okay.”

“W- Okay? Really?” Balthazar was obviously shocked. “Fantastic!”

Cas shut himself in his office the rest of the night, not wanting to deal with people. He would have rather gone back to bed that morning and then maybe drink a bottle of… whatever by himself once he couldn’t lay there any longer, but he had obligations. His mother counted on him to keep the place running while she sat at home and did who knows what. He hadn’t actually visited her in years, even though he easily could have. They live in the same neighborhood. He could easily stop by her house while out on a run. He didn’t have any valid excuses. He just didn’t want to deal with her any more than he had to. It was possible, deep down, that he blamed her for his miserable life.

He ran his hand through his hair. He didn’t want to think about her either. He wished he knew where Gabriel was, or, at least, had a way to contact him. But Gabe left as soon as he graduated high school and just vanished. Cas suspected that he and their father kept in touch.

He couldn’t call Michael. Michael didn’t care. He escaped the restaurant and made mother proud by becoming state senator. She claims he’s on his way to D.C. Cas couldn’t give a shit. And he and Michael never really got along very well anyway. Then he got the stupidest idea he’d ever had. He pulled out his wallet and dug through the few scraps of paper he kept in there. He found what he was looking for on a scrap of cardstock. He took a deep breath and dialed the number.

“Hello?”

“Mrs. Winchester?”

“Cas! Is that you?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“How many times did I tell you to call me Mary?”

Cas breathed a laugh. “Too many to remember,” he admitted.

“I see you got my Christmas card last year. How are you doing, sweetie?”

“I…” He had no idea what he was going to say. Confess his feelings about Dean? Apologize for the last twenty years? Tell her all about how much he hated what he was doing with her life?

“Is this about Dean?” She asked.

“In a way,” he confessed.

“You still love him?”

“What?”

“Please. I watched you two play in my back yard for ages. Mothers see everything, you know.”

Castiel sighed. It was almost a relief to have it out there in the open. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Have you talked to him?”

“I don’t think that’s wise. I think he’s still mad at me. I can’t blame him.”

“Well I can’t say that you two haven’t been complete fools for the past twenty years, but you know Dean. Do you really think he wouldn’t forgive you?”

“I don’t know if I forgive me.”

“That wasn’t the question. I think you should talk to him.”

“Perhaps…”

“So, how have you been, Cas?”

Cas opened his mouth to lie, to say he’s been good, like a normal person, but instead he spilled, in great detail, everything he hated about his life.

“Cas, honey, you know you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, don’t you?”

“You’ve met my mother, Mrs. Winches- _Mary_. I don’t think I can ever get out from under her thumb.”

“Not with that attitude.”

“What?”

“You listen to me. I love you like my own son, albeit one who never calls. I know you’re destined for great things.”

“I think it’s a little late for that.”

“It’s never too late to start over.”

“I wish I could believe you.”

“You will. I have to go. John just got home from coaching. I need to get dinner started. You go talk to Dean, okay?”

“I’ll… think about it.”

“Hmm. You do that. Take care of yourself, Cas. Some of us care about you very much.”

“Thanks Mary. Have a good night.”

Cas mulled over what Mary had said. It sounded so easy to just walk across the street and talk to Dean. But then, he didn’t see Dean go into work. Maybe he had the day off. Lord knew he deserved it. He rarely took a day off. Cas would have to wait a day and see if his resolve crumbled. What little of it there was.

 

_**twenty years ago…** _

 

He heard the pebbles striking his window and ignored them. He wasn’t allowed to talk to Dean anymore. If he got caught who knew what his mom would do. She had never struck him before, but she was furious when she’d come home and found him with a bandage on his head and a story about how he’d fallen through the trapdoor in the treehouse. He was a terrible liar and she saw straight through him. So he told her what really happened and she was livid. She had lectured him for what felt like hours and then sent him to bed. He hated how much he feared her. He wished he could stand up to her. He was positive Dean had gotten a similar lecture from his dad, and yet, here he was, throwing pebbles at Cas’ window, hoping he would come out and play. Cas tucked himself into his closet until Dean finally gave up.

He didn’t leave the house anymore that summer. He stayed in his room and read, mostly. Sometimes he would wander around the house. Occasionally he would spot Dean outside on his bike, talking to Gabriel. Then Gabe would come in and try to get him to go out and play for a while, promising that their mom wouldn’t find out, but he wouldn’t risk it. And he certainly didn’t want to get Gabe in trouble, too.

“Seriously, Cas,” Gabe said to him one day. “You and Dean have been inseparable since you’ve met. What happened?”

“Mom says I’m not allowed to see him anymore.”

“She said that before, it never stopped you. What, did he push you off the treehouse or something?”

Cas was horrified at the thought. “No! It’s my fault we fell! It’s my fault he broke his arm!” Out of nowhere tears burst from Cas like he had been holding them back for weeks. Maybe he had. “I don’t even know why he still wants to play with me. He must have gotten in so much trouble. He’s safer if I don’t talk to him anymore.”

“Do you have any idea how flawed that logic is?” Gabe raised an eyebrow at him.

“I can’t play with him anymore, Gabe,” Cas sobbed. He held his face in his hands and felt Gabe wrap his arms around him.

“Okay, little brother. Okay. If that’s what you think you gotta do, then, okay. But you gotta know, you’re breaking that poor kid’s heart.”

“He’ll get over it. Dean’s strong. He doesn’t need me.”

Gabriel sighed. “If you say so.”

 

**_ meanwhile… _ **

 

“Sorry Dean, he doesn’t want to see you.”

Dean had lost count of how many times Gabriel said those words to him over the past year. He’d tried everything. Screaming at Cas’ window when his parents weren’t home (only to get shooed away by Michael), leaving peace offerings at the bottom of the tree (only to find them on this doorstep the next day), mailing him letters (only to have them returned). Whatever was broken between them he was sure he could fix if Cas would only give him a chance.

“Do you know why? Do you know what I did so I can fix it?”

Gabe just shook his head. “Honestly, I think my mom just got to him. I’m sure he’ll come around eventually.”

Dean tried to hold back the tears. He was eleven now, much too old for crying. Or so his father told him. Thunder rumbled in the distance and he rubbed at his left arm, unconsciously.

“Look,” Gabe said, “don’t give up, okay? You were the best thing that ever happened to that kid. I never saw him so happy as he was with you. Now all he does is sit in his room and read or do homework. He doesn’t even write anymore.”

“I don’t know what else to do.”

“I know, but I’m gonna be turning eighteen soon and then I’m getting the hell out of here. He’s gonna need someone to look after him.”

“I mean, you’re gonna keep in touch, right? You can’t just leave him there with your mom and your brother!” Dean knew it was rude to talk about other people’s families like that, but he worried about Cas. His dad had been home less and less and if Gabe was leaving that meant Cas would have no one to turn to for comfort. Not if he wasn’t going to let Dean in.

“I have to do what’s best for me. If I could take him with me I would, but I can’t. I’m getting out. Hopefully he figures out a way to do the same.”

 

_**present day...** _

 

Dean couldn’t sleep and he was tired of drinking to try to make his problems go away. He figured if he went in to the restaurant and made up the pies and did all the prep work he could justify not going in the next day. He turned the lights on and the music up. It was nearly two in the morning, and there were no apartments around. He wasn’t going to be bothering anyone. He was yelling along to Cheap Trick and mixing pie crust. It was better than therapy in his opinion.

 

_**elsewhere...** _

 

Cas had left the bar when it was obvious that everyone’s attention was focused somewhere else. He had drank quite a bit but he wanted to take a walk before calling a cab. He relished the cool breeze blowing through his hair and the quiet of the street. Most people had already gone home for the night.

Then he heard music drifting out of The Greasy Spoon. If he had had just a couple drinks less he might have ignored it, but, as it was, he had not. He stood in front of the restaurant, trying to look into the windows, but the dining room was dark. He thought about knocking on the door but realized that if he could hear the music from the kitchen then there was no way the person inside would hear him. He knew that person was Dean. He was the only one who would come in this late. He walked down the alley, around to the back of the building and started pounding on the metal door.

 

Dean was in the middle of pulling pies out of the oven when he just barely heard someone pounding on the back door over the music. Maybe there was someone to bother in the area after all. He closed the oven and turned down the music, hoping they would go away, but they kept knocking. Dean gave up and went to open the door. On the other side was the last person he expected to see.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas said, obviously drunk.

“Cas, what are you doing here?” Dean tried to keep the angry tone out of his voice.

“I heard your music. Can I come in?” Cas stumbled through the doorway.

“I guess,” Dean snapped.

Cas found a chair and slumped into it. Then he put his head into his hands. “I’m such an asshole.”

Dean leaned against the stove across from his former best friend. “I’ve known that for a while. You just figure it out?”

Cas nodded at first and then shook his head. “I’m such an asshole,” he repeated in a whisper.

Taking a deep breath, Dean tried to dampen his worry. He would not care about the one person who hurt him the most. The adorable, drunk, apparently crisis-having, jackass who sat before him. His shoulders slumped and he took a few steps toward Cas, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“What happened, Cas?”

Cas looked up at him, eyes glassy. “I hate my life,” he bit out.

Dean pulled up a chair and sat next to him. “Yeah, well, join the club.”

“Remember the treehouse?” Cas asked out of nowhere.

Dean shrugged one shoulder. “Not really,” he lied.

Cas nodded. “I was a terrible friend, Dean. I’m sorry.”

Damn it. Dean wrapped an arm around Cas’ shoulders. “You weren’t terrible, Cas. We were ten and terrified of our parents-”

“You weren’t.”

“I was. But I was more pissed than scared. I didn’t understand why we weren’t allowed to be friends.” Then he added, softly, “I still don’t.”

Cas looked up at him, a little hopeful. Dean let slip a small smile.

“Let me make you something to eat, Cas.”

Cas sat quietly while Dean scrambled some eggs and fried bacon. He made them each a plate and added some toast. “Come on,” he nudged his head at the door to the dining room. Cas led the way and took the chairs down from a two-person table. He sat and Dean set their plates down. Then he turned to leave.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m gonna make us some coffee, Cas. I think we’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

Cas nodded and picked up a piece of bacon.

Dean smiled as he started the coffee maker. For the first time in twenty years he finally felt right.

 

“If you hate it so much why don’t you leave?” Dean asked over his fifth cup of coffee.

“It’s not that easy. My mother needs help running the place. I can’t just leave her.”

“Sure you can. You deserve to be happy, Cas. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so miserable.”

“Well if it’s so easy,” Cas retorted, “why don’t you leave?”

“And do what?”

“What do you want to do?”

“I never thought about it.”

“That’s a lie. Do most people believe that? I know for a fact that you wanted to be a rock star or a fireman.”

Dean laughed. “Yeah, well, those days are long gone.”

“I also know that you’re very good with mechanics. You could probably be an engineer.”

“I’m not smart enough for that kind of stuff, Cas. I barely made it through high school.”

“I’m sure you could have gotten straight As if you’d wanted to.”

“We stopped talking when we were ten. You don’t know me half as well as you think you do.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Uh, yeah.”

Cas sat up and cleared his throat. “I know that your favorite color is still blue because you changed all the uniforms when your parents moved to Florida. I know you still love pie, even though you make at least a dozen every day. I know that you’re still a kind and compassionate person. I’ve seen the trucks that leave here every day taking food to the homeless.” He smirked. “I know you still hate restaurants because you think food should be personal. I know your left arm hurts sometimes when it rains. And I know you are still a good man, because all I had to do was apologize and you forgave me. You haven’t changed so much in twenty years.”

Dean was blushing so hard that he felt like his ears were on fire.

“Yeah, well, your favorite color is still green. But not just any green. Green like grass in the summer. And all the people who work for you think they’re above everyone and it drives you crazy, the same way your family drove you crazy. I know you still miss your dad like crazy and that you haven’t heard from Gabe in years. I know that you’re still a creative son of a bitch if you thought I wouldn’t forgive my best friend at the drop of a hat.” Dean reached out and grabbed Cas’ hand. “And I know you’re not as much of an asshole as you think you are. We just got thrown into a shitty situation and now we’re both miserable bastards.”

He knew Dean was trying to make the situation light but Cas couldn’t stop looking at their hands. He curled his fingers around Dean’s and looked up.

“Do you know why my favorite color is green?”

Dean knit his eyebrows and shook his head.

“Because the first time I saw your eyes I thought it was the most beautiful color I’d ever seen.”

Dean stood up, still holding Cas’ hand, and pulled him close, smashing their mouths together. Their hands started exploring everywhere as the kissed and nipped at each other’s lips. Finally Dean pulled back.

“Come on,” he said, grabbing Cas’ hand and tugging him back toward the kitchen. “We’re both calling off tomorrow.”

But Cas didn’t follow. “Dean I can’t…”

“Sure you can,” Dean smiled. “Come on, Cas. We deserve this.”

Cas took a deep breath and, before he could think about it too much, nodded. “We should probably clean up first.”

Dean grabbed the dishes and turned back toward the kitchen. “Put those chairs up and come on!”

Cas smiled. Dean was right, they did deserve this.

 

_**later…** _

 

Dean shoved Cas back onto his bed. They both worked frantically at getting naked but Dean decided it was taking too long and he needed his lips back on Cas pronto. He dove forward and sucked a mark onto the first piece of flesh his mouth came into contact with. Luckily, it turned out to be Cas’ chest.

“Dean,” Cas whispered, raking his fingers through Dean’s hair. Dean looked up at him through his eyelashes. Cas cupped his jaw with both hands and dragged his face close enough to kiss. Dean wrapped his arms around Cas’ back and rolled them over so that Cas was on top.

“God, you’re so beautiful, Dean. I’m so sorry it took-”

Dean surged forward and kissed him again.

“No more apologies. Not tonight,” he whispered. Cas nodded back.

“You’re so amazing.”

Dean smiled like he hasn’t in twenty years under the praise. Then he pulled Cas back down and started nipping at his jaw. Cas started rocking his hips.

“We need to get these clothes off,” he growled. Dean agreed. He pushed Cas’ shirt off his shoulders and then began working at his fly. Cas swatted at his hands and pulled back. It would be faster if he just did it. He shoved his pants down and flipped onto his back next to Dean so he could shuck them the rest of the way. Meanwhile Dean had extracted himself from his own in record time. He leaned over Cas and pulled him back on top.

“God, Cas,” he breathed. His hands and mouth were everywhere, like he couldn’t get enough or couldn’t believe this was happening. Then suddenly he was clinging to Cas. “I missed you so much.”

“Me too,” Cas whispered. He carded his fingers through Dean’s hair and bit back another apology. Finally Dean released his grip and kissed him again, this time more slowly, less feverish. He reached a hand up under a pillow and pulled out a bottle of lube, offering it to Cas, pleading with his eyes. Cas smiled at him and took it, kissing him on the forehead. He moved back between Dean’s legs and poured a good amount into his hand, rubbing his fingers together to coat them and warm the liquid. Dean propped himself up onto a pillow to watch. Cas kissed his knee and slid the first finger in. Dean’s eyes rolled back in his head and he let out a deep breath. He couldn’t believe this was happening right now. Cas slid the finger in and out until he was sure he was ready for the next one. When he slid the second finger in Dean let out a low moan that went straight to Cas’ dick. He pumped them in and out a few times and then crooked his fingers and hit just the right spot. Dean’s hips came off the bed and he cried out. Cas couldn’t stop the smile that crossed his lips. He scissored his fingers and continued to stretch Dean. Every few passes he’d hit Dean’s prostate and each time Dean’s cries became more broken.

“God, Dean, you should see yourself,” Cas said, leaning forward to kiss him. “You look fantastic.”

Dean smiled and caught his breath during Cas’ pause. Then Cas slid in a third finger and Dean cried out again.

“Please,” he whimpered.

Cas thought about teasing him but decided against it. Another time. Because as long as Dean would have him, there would be many other times.

He removed his fingers and Dean let out a keening sound at the loss. Then Cas slicked himself up and pushed in slowly.

“God yes,” Dean gasped.

Cas was in as far as he could go and he waited for the signal from Dean to start moving. When Dean had gotten used to the feeling he nodded at Cas. Cas pulled back and rocked into him again, slowly. He wanted to savor this. He built up a rhythm that had Dean writhing and then grasped Dean’s forgotten cock and began to pump it in time. As it turned out, Dean was very vocal during sex. Before too long Dean came, shouting Cas name brokenly. As Dean clenched around him Cas couldn’t keep his rhythm any more. His thrusts became more erratic. Dean’s name exploded from his lips as he came inside his best friend.

He crumpled on top of Dean, wrapping his arms around the other man, and Dean ran his hands up and down his back. Eventually he pulled out and rolled to his side. Dean didn’t let go. He tucked his head into Cas’ neck and breathed, “I love you, Cas.”

Cas pulled Dean impossibly closer and kissed his hair. “I love you, too, Dean.”

 

_ **further on down the road…** _

 

Cas came in the front door and dropped his book bag on the floor. He had moved into Dean’s house a few months ago. All of his best memories were there and so was the man that he loved. Dean was finishing dinner on the stove. Cas came up behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist. He kissed Dean on the shoulder.

“Hey, Cas.” Dean put one of his hand’s over Cas’. “How was class?”

“Good. Lots of talk about Native Americans. I’m ready to get into more classical civilizations, but this is still interesting. How was work?”

“Awesome. I got to work on this ‘73 Challenger. God, she was gorgeous. Don’t tell my baby.”

“Your secret is safe with me.” Cas kissed his neck.

“Dinner should be ready in a few.”

“No rush.” Cas kissed his jaw.

“If you don’t stop I’m gonna forget about dinner and it’ll burn and then we’ll have to go hungry.”

“Mmm. That’s a tough decision. If I didn’t know what you’re like when you’re hungry, I’d say screw it.” Cas pulled away. “But I think I’d rather have you fed.”

“Good choice,” Dean winked.

 

After dinner Cas sat at the dining room table working on a report for his humanities class while Dean sat at the piano and played Your Song.

“Didn’t I tell you you had the best ideas, Cas?”

“What are you talking about?” Cas asked from behind his laptop.

Dean smiled and shook his head. “Nevermind.”

Cas looked up and caught that faraway look and slight grin Dean would get when thinking about the past.

“Well, we aren’t rich and famous,” Cas smiled. “But I suppose this’ll do.”

 

 


End file.
